Screw the Stars
by ElasticBobaTurtle
Summary: The world is dying, but her smile is alive, and he won't let it break. Isaac, Mia.


They live in a dying world.

They see the signs wherever they travel: in the splitting earth, the roaring fire, the restless sea (and maybe even in their eyes, if you look closely). It beats in their hearts, something they cannot escape.

_The end is coming, hurry._

He is the chosen one. He is the one with the too-young shoulders to bear the yoke of a too-heavy world. He is the one with golden hair like the sun and eyes like the open sky. But the sun is slowly setting and the sky is darkening to dusk.

She isn't chosen (not the way he is), but she has made a choice. She watches the world around her sick, dying. She is a healer, but alone, her abilities are not enough. She knows how his duty binds him to his honor and his soul, and some nights she cries because she is helpless to help him. He has always fought his own battle, in his own way.

She can only pray for his victory.

-

The earth surges up beneath him in a mighty rolling wave, alive. He feels it rising, sensitive to his command. He lets the feeling swell up inside, almost unbearably, before he releases it. The beast cries sharply before being swallowed up by the shuddering earth. A moment later, it is quiet, and the cave echoes faintly with its dying cries.

Garet shouts triumphantly, pumping the air with his fist. "Nice, Isaac!"

But Isaac doesn't hear, is panting too heavily. He slumps to the ground, clutching the long gash along his shoulder where the blood is sticky under layers of clothing. Garet and Ivan rush over to him.

"You okay, man?" Garet asks, stooping over in concern. Ivan says nothing, but his eyes mirror the question. He turns to the two and manages a brief smile, tight-lipped.

"I'm fine," he says, but is betrayed by a sudden grimace. He shuts his eyes against the pain, clenching his muscles tight.

A touch on his shoulder causes his muscles to relax suddenly, almost magically. He looks up. She is ethereal in this light, almost like a fairy, where the glowing crystals of the cave illuminate her pale face.

"Let me see," she says, and her voice is soft like the first days of spring. He moves his hand reluctantly to reveal the gash, and he watches her brow furrow slightly before her lips tighten into a line of grim determination. But she doesn't say anything, and he's glad for that.

Instead, she closes her eyes and kneels beside him, focusing her energies. He watches her soft face creased in concentration, as the blue glow envelopes her, pulsating. He feels a warm tingling beginning to form inside of him, centering on his shoulder. He's never quite gotten used to the sensation of another person's energy reaching out to touch him so gently; to heal, not hurt him.

The blue weaves through flesh, slowly and painstakingly mending it. But he doesn't watch it heal; his eyes are trained on her. The pain is forgotten. It is soothing, watching her at work. She is so sure and steady with what she does, so infinitely patient.

It is healed too soon. She opens her eyes, and for a moment he is taken aback by how blue and clear they are, like a collision of water and sky. (Sometimes he forgets important things like these in the heat of battle and the monotony of their quest, and he needs to be reminded.)

"All better," she says, smiling gently as she stands. He returns the smile.

"Thanks," he murmurs, discreetly touching the place where her magic had been only a moment before. Still warm.

Garet is calling for him from further down the cave, and he yells back in response. Slowly, he hauls himself to his feet, and begins to make his way down the dark passageway.

Somehow, though, his eyes always seem to follow her.

-

It is a quiet, cold night, out in the open. The stars are bright and glinting like shards of ice embedded in a wide expanse of blue. They are sitting around the fire, the embers occasionally leaping up from the logs to spark against the sky.

Garet is teasing Ivan, who hurls back a witty reply. Mia sits quietly, a small smile ghosting her lips as she listens to their bickering. His eyes settle on her graceful figure. Watching her instills a feeling of calm, and for a moment he feels he can forget about the world slowly crumbling at their feet. Forget that he is the one with the power to save it or destroy it further.

For a moment he can pretend he's an ordinary boy, with an ordinary destiny, who feels small, extraordinary flutters when he looks upon this girl (only _she_ isn't normal, she's _beautiful_).

But only for a moment, he reminds himself. (If only he'd listen.)

After a while, Garet lets out an enormous yawn, stretching his long limbs. "Alright, I'm beat. I'm gonna go sleep now. One of you guys can take first watch."

With that, the tall boy retreats to one of the tents pitched. Ivan soon follows suit, leaving Isaac and Mia by the fire. It is quiet without Garet's loud humor to fill the silence, but Isaac doesn't mind; in fact, it's a nice change of pace.

Mia turns to him, her fine features highlighted by the fire's flickering light. "You can go to sleep, too. I'll take first watch."

He shakes his head. "No, it's alright. I don't really feel like sleeping right now."

She arches an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yeah," he says. "What about you? Why don't you go to sleep?"

She shrugs, and for the first time he notices the roses the cold has put in her cheeks. "It's alright, I like taking first watch. It gives me time to think." Her eyes wander slowly to the endless night sky, her hands clasped neatly in her lap.

He nods in agreement. "Yeah. Sometimes things just get so…" He, too, turns to the night sky. It reaches to places he can't imagine, to things he doesn't dare dream of.

"Crazy?" she supplies, her lips twitching upward.

"Yeah, you could say that," he replies, his lips twitching, too.

They are silent for awhile, while the stars tell stories of dying men's dreams. The fire crackles and crickets chirp in the velvet dark. Suddenly, she speaks again. "It must be tough being you, Isaac…"

He looks up at the unexpected words, meeting her eyes across the fire. "What makes you say that?" he asks. He isn't sure what she means.

"Well…" she begins, then stops. "You know, you have such a huge responsibility…I mean, it's not like it's everyone's duty to save the world, or whatever."

Isaac laughs a little. It's funny how she seems to think the same things he does. "I guess. It's a little overwhelming, when I think about it." His eyes fall back to the fire and its endless loops. "I mean, _me_…saving the world…"

His voice drops a little lower and he leans forward, resting his chin in hands. Mia casts a glance in his direction.

"I can imagine," she murmurs. "If it were me, I don't know what I'd do."

Isaac smiles, but there's a kind of sardonic edge to it. "You don't have to worry about that, Mia…"

She laughs softly, and the sound is achingly sweet on this bitter night. "You're right, Isaac. I'm lucky."

It almost seems like she wants to say more (he wants her to;_ let me hear your voice_), but she doesn't. They fall into silence again, gazing at the fire as it slowly dwindles.

Isaac looks at her delicate face again. She seems so fragile sitting by the fire, like a paper doll battered on a windy day, or a glass settled on the edge of a cliff, teetering.

_I can't let her be broken_, he thinks. The thought emerges suddenly, but he realizes it's something he's known since the day he met her; the day he discovered another shade of blue.

"Mia," he says, suddenly (his heart jumping, he doesn't know why). The word pops out of his mouth without thinking, but somehow he can't regret it, or the sound it makes.

She looks to him with her honest eyes. "Hm?"

He doesn't know what to say, not when she looks at him that way. Not when the voice in the back of his mind tells him, leeringly, the truth of all good things.

_This will come to an end, too._

He swallows the lump that's formed, and quickly averts his gaze. He can't stand to look at her with that thought making his brain dizzy.

"…never mind," he says forcibly, even when inside there's something screaming to be let free, beating back with bruising fists he forbids to bleed. He swallows harder. The sky has already told him of dead dreams; he should be wiser.

"You sure?" she asks, concern lighting her eyes.

_The sky_, his mind screams.

"…Yeah."

_But love was never wise_.

-

He watches her falling, through a haze. There's a look of pain on her face so intense he can feel it across this blurring distance. But he can't register.

_She's hurt._

Garet is screaming for his attention, but he doesn't hear. There's a thrumming in his ears, so loud he's sure it's consumed the world. He's gone deaf to the noises around him, to Ivan's desparate cries and the clammering of the djinn in his ears.

The elements whipping around, violently, and there's a storm building up inside.

She's on the ground, and there is blood. Too red for her. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

He's faintly aware of a deep rumbling as the beast plods towards him, shaking the earth with its bulk. He feels his body moving in numb response, his lips uttering spells he doesn't understand, but instinctively knows. The raw power surges up to burn in his veins, and the beast smiles.

He's filled with a sudden hate, so black it chokes him. There shouldn't be a smile like that, not when the beautiful girl on the ground is bleeding her light away. The red of her pooling blood stains his vision and he can't see anything. He's blinded by her soft smile and this beast's sickening, repugnant one, and the thrilling contrast that urges him on.

He lets out a strangled scream, trying to rid his lungs of this burning so fierce he can hardly breathe. An explosion, the sky is falling, she is dying, what will he do?

_This will come to an end, too._

Nothing but light, nothing but white, nothing but her smile slowly fading—

"**RAGNAROK!"**

The storm releases in a giant golden fury, magnificent. But he doesn't care for that beauty, not now, not when he promised himself he'd protect her.

The beast cries out in pain, writhing against the sky. The earth shudders violently as it topples on unsteady feet, thrashing its tail.

He is by her side before it hits the floor with a reverberating smash.

His breathing is harsh and grating beside her strangely tranquil face. From all the chaos, she seems a separate existence, other-worldly. She is pale as a tulip, her hair spilled all around her and the blood spreading like butter in between.

Roughly, he begins to force the energy to pump into his tired veins, even against the djinn's protests.

_Be careful, Master Isaac. _

"Shut up," he breathes raggedly.

More, he needs more to heal her. Why is it healing so slowly? His mind is fumbling with the spells, and his hands are shaking as he holds them, glowing gold, over her torn body, willing the wounds to close.

_Come on, faster…_

The flesh knits together at an excruciatingly slow pace. He watches her face hungrily for a motion, a flicker, a smile…

She is so pale, so gray. Like ash about to be blown away to sea. But he will keep her close, keep pumping, _more_.

His body is aching and throbbing in too many places to count, and his veins feel like they will explode in a moment. But she still isn't healed, and there's too much blood on the ground for him to stop. (_too red for her, this isn't right)_

He can't help but think that he should be the one bleeding, and she should be the one healing. Why are the roles switched? Is the world really that wrong? Has the sky fallen out of place? Were the stars right, when they told him his dream would die, too?

He shakes his head, snapping himself back to attention. He needs to think of the words, call on the earth, _calm down._

But how can he be calm when she's like this?

His hands won't hold still and for a moment the golden glow falters. He wants to scream and rip his hair out in frustration, but that'd be wasting time. _Concentrate, _he tells himself, but his head is spinning and the world is flying off its axis.

_Master Isaac_, the djinn warn.

He doesn't care; why don't they under_stand_!

The glow comes back and lights up her colorless face. The blue of her hair is stark as ice against her marble skin. The flesh begins to knit together again as his hands tremble uncontrollably.

Still so much red…

Her breath is a shallow ripple, barely there.

His eyes widen and he begins to pump even more vigorously. _She's alive!_

Her lips are parted and ashen, but she is breathing. He feels the blood hesitantly resume its flow. Faintly, slowly, she is coming back. He just needs to keep pumping a little longer—

His veins are on fire (he can barely feel them anymore), and his reserve of psyenergy is about to run dry. But he keeps pushing, pushing towards the collapse of a black hole.

A soft moan. He looks frantically to her face. She is still ghostly pale, but her eyes—

A flicker of long lashes, and he's frozen by the truest blue.

"Isaac…" her hoarse whisper makes his heart jump giddily.

The golden glow wavers, and his veins quiver dangerously. His vision is swimming into spots of white and red, but it's all okay now, because she's alive.

He falls forward, embracing the blue.

"Isaac!"

-

The first thing he awakens to is Garet's face looming large. He starts back at the sight, and Garet laughs, running his hand through his spiky hair.

"Gee, Isaac, I didn't know my face was _that_ repulsive," Garet drawls.

Isaac groans, his vision swimming. He can't think clearly, and the only thing he can register is sheer exhaustion. His entire body is numb, faintly tingling. His arms and legs feel like dead weights without sensation. Experimentally, he twitches his arm. Only one finger responds, feebly. He knows it's pointless to even try to move at this point.

"You had us worried for a while," Garet says, conversationally. "You just fell over like a dead weight, and then you wouldn't wake up."

He carefully opens his eyes and looks around the room, washed in sunlight. The bright light hurts his eyes, so he closes them again. What had happened? He can't quite remember…

"It was like you went crazy or something, after Mia got hurt."

_Mia._

Isaac's eyes snap open and he sits up abruptly in bed. Almost immediately after, he regrets the action. His head is whirling and he can't hold himself up for more than a few seconds, before he collapses back onto the pillow.

"Whoah there," says Garet. "Take it easy."

His throat is dry and hoarse. It takes extreme effort to speak, but the word cracks out.

"Mia," he croaks.

Luckily, Garet seems to understand. "Mia's fine, Isaac," he says, looking out the glass-paned window at the bustling city life below. "You made sure of that."

The blond boy relaxes, his eyes closing. His muscles succumb to exhaustion, and he allows them to.

He's so _tired, _and sleep sounds like a really nice idea…

In a moment, he is fast asleep. Garet comes to stand over him, smiling fondly. His tall shadow spills over the blond boy's peaceful face.

"Sweet dreams, Isaac," he says quietly, before leaving the room. He's learned a new secret.

-

The second time he awakens, it is late dusk and Garet is nowhere in sight. His room is empty. He hears faint sounds of people laughing and making merry somewhere down the hall. It's dinner time, but he isn't hungry.

He gazes out at the orange sky through the windowpane. The setting sun has turned the room's shadows into strong reds and deep oranges, like burgundy wines.

He tries to think, but his mind is still tired and sluggish. He closes his eyes in surrender, and drifts back to sleep.

-

The third time he awakens, it is night, and the moon is spilling strongly through the window. There is someone beside him, but he can't tell who; a soft presence in the moonlight. He turns his head with great effort, straining his neck.

His heart jumps at the sight.

She is there, sitting in a chair by the bedside. As custom, her hands are folded neatly in her lap. The moonlight sets blue strands of her hair aglow, but strangely, looking at them doesn't hurt his eyes. He can tell she's sleeping by her deep, steady breathing.

For a moment, he is content to just watch her breathe. The slow rise of her chest is a reassurance of his efforts; the world hasn't fallen apart just yet. He's about to speak when he thinks better of it, and stops himself.

She's alive, but just as fragile.

Quietly, he lifts himself up, drawing his knees slowly to his chest. His muscles ache in protest, but he ignores the pain.

She hasn't broken, not yet. And he won't let her.

His hand reaches out, quivering only slightly. Her breathing is calm and uninterrupted, and she looks so beautiful captured in this light (so beautiful in any light). His hand slips against her soft, smooth cheek.

_Screw the stars, _he thinks, as he leans forward to capture the dream on her lips.

-

Aha, this is my first venture into the world of Golden Sun. Caught in a serious phase of IsaacxMia love, ARGH. I wish the fandom were bigger :x


End file.
